<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Touchstone by Jwink85</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28409535">Touchstone</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jwink85/pseuds/Jwink85'>Jwink85</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>South Park</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Control, Deception, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Fear, Gaslighting, Lies, Love, M/M, Mind Games, Mind Manipulation, Murder, Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 17:15:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>17,405</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28409535</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jwink85/pseuds/Jwink85</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Kyle and Craig are ensconced in the throes of a happy marriage, but Kyle is going to learn before too long that you never really know another person, no matter how much you may love them.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kyle Broflovski/Craig Tucker</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>55</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Trigger warning: mentions of violence but not actual violence? i don't know. there are disturbing themes here so be safe, okay?</p><p>this is a story i've been wanting to write forever bc I possess an unhealthy amount of knowledge regarding serial killers and true crime. i don't condone what they do, mind you, but i'm fascinated by the criminal mind. this is also an idea i got based on Stephen King's novella 'A Good Marriage' - it's part of his Full Dark, No Stars collection and it's so fucking good that i can barely stand it. he's so good at writing from a female perspective; no small feat for a male writer.</p><p>but, yeah. there's that. Also, the people i mention in this chapter are real, and their story is based on a true crime that was never solved (Blind River Killer). i suggest you check it out bc it always scared the life out of me...but i enjoy scaring myself, so...xD</p><p>Anyway, ENJOY! I don't expect a lot of interest in this but if you are interested, great! welcome to the party, friend!</p><p>&lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <strong>It's not my fault</strong>
  </em>
  <br/>
  <em>
    <strong>(Mea culpa (Through my fault))</strong>
  </em>
  <br/>
  <em>
    <strong>If in God's plan</strong>
  </em>
  <br/>
  <em>
    <strong>(Mea culpa (Through my fault))</strong>
  </em>
  <br/>
  <em>
    <strong>He made the devil so much</strong>
  </em>
  <br/>
  <em>
    <strong>Stronger than a man</strong>
  </em>
  <br/>
  <em>
    <strong>(Mea maxima culpa (Through my most grievous fault))</strong>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <strong>-Hellfire, Hunchback of Notre Dame (the best disney movie ever, fight me lmao)</strong>
  </em>
</p><hr/><p>When Ike came home from college for the summer, Mrs. Broflovski made a brisket. </p><p>Not just any brisket, mind you. No, this was her special brisket for her special boy. It didn't matter that he'd changed his major - again - he was coming home, and she wanted him to have his favorite meal right off the bat. </p><p>So the brisket cooked in the oven for hours, exuding its rich, meaty smell, and when it was already so tender it was falling apart, she pulled it out, let it cool, and then popped it in again. It was a grueling process but it was worth it. It was always worth it to see ike's eyes light up. </p><p>Really, she just enjoyed making her boys happy. Even if Kyle had recently quit his real job to work at a coffee shop and play house with his husband. He was just finding his way, wasn't he?</p><p>And she loved Craig, simply adored him, but he could've shifted Kyle in a different direction, couldn't he? After all, he was so persuasive; he could sell ice to an Eskimo. </p><p>But, no, she wasn't going to focus on that today. She would attend to her brisket and making ike's most requested dessert (cherry pie with vanilla bean ice cream - not Breyers, of course, too chalky; it had to be Blue Bell), and she'd smile because it'd been so long since everyone had been together. </p><p>"Gerald, come check this, huh?" She called, pulling the brisket (oh, it's so quivering and juicy) out of the oven and considering it. "I'm not sure if it's right just yet."</p><p>"Hon, you know this stuff better than I do." Shuffling into the warm kitchen, Gerald had his reading glasses on. He'd been trying to work the kindle but even with Kyle's help he was still having trouble. He'd probably just end up reading that old Grisham novel in paperback form. </p><p>The way God intended. There's nothing better than the smell of an age-worn book -</p><p>Unless it's his wife's brisket. His mouth watered at the sight of it. Gingerly, he cut off a piece and slipped it into his mouth, nearly dissolving from the flavor; black pepper, a little garlic -</p><p>"Yeah, it's good," he said. </p><p>"It's better than good, you can't lie to me Gerald Broflovski," she laughed, pulling her creation from the oven so it could rest on the cutting board for a spell. "I saw your face. You got the look."</p><p>"Oh, did i?"</p><p>"You did. I've been looking at your face for over 30 years, I know when you like something."</p><p>"I suppose that makes sense." Sighing, he stretched, aching slightly from a pulled muscle in his leg. Damn NordicTrack. "When are Kyle and them getting here? It's already after 3."</p><p>Pulling out the makings for a salad, she prepared to slice a tomato. "Well, ike's plane was due in at 1:30 and Kyle said there weren't any delays, so... soon, I guess. I hope."</p><p>"And Craig's coming with, yeah?"</p><p>"Of course he is," she replied, cutting into the tomato and watching it fall wetly apart; collapsing from being just a little too ripe. "Craig is so good with those things, don't you think? Having a plan, knowing when to be somewhere at the best time."</p><p>"He has a head for details, that's for sure."</p><p>"I mean, so does Kyle, of course, but he's gotten so forgetful since he quit his job." She offered a piece of tomato to Gerald but he waved it away, giving her a look; eyebrow raised. </p><p>"Sheila, we agreed not to bring that up today."</p><p>"I know, I know. I'll leave it alone, I'm just telling you I've noticed and I'm concerned. Isn't that allowed anymore? A mother worrying about her son?"</p><p>He sighed. "Of course, but -"</p><p>The clattering and opening of the front door stole his focus from what he meant to say -</p><p>
  <em>Don't nag. He'd come to visit more often if you got off his case.</em>
</p><p>But that was beating a dead horse, and the kids were here. He'd much rather focus on them. </p><p>Moving with a surprising amount of swiftness for a woman with her level of heft, Sheila yanked off her apron - red gingham and hemmed in rickrack; what a combination - and threw it down, her whole demeanor lighting up in just this special way; pure anticipation. </p><p>"They're here, oh, they're here," she said, bustling into the hall, a flurry of hands being clasped and arranging her hair. She was all over the place. </p><p>So was Kyle, to be honest. He hated navigating Denver International at the best of times but it'd been so busy today. He had to figure it was because so many students were out for the summer. It'd just begun, so many vacations at once, and the traffic had been such a trial. </p><p>Thank God Craig had agreed to drive. He didn't really seem to care about traffic. It was a fact of life, unavoidable, so why bitch about it? You'd get where you needed to go eventually, right? <em>Calm down, Kyle, calm down. I'll handle this, baby. </em></p><p>That's what Craig was good at, handling things. </p><p>And he'd handled him with his typical ravenous appetite that morning, hadn't he? Pulling Kyle back into bed when he'd tried to climb out, lying him down and nipping just below his jaw, just the way Kyle craved. </p><p>"Where do you think you're going, huh?" he'd asked huskily next to Kyle's sleep-flushed skin. "Who gave you permission?"</p><p>Kyle had merely stretched long before curling into Craig's touch. Breakfast could wait, couldn't it?</p><p>"Oh, Ike, you're so skinny," Mrs. Broflovski was saying now, bringing Kyle's thoughts back to the stressful, sexless present; his mother holding ike's face before drawing him to her ample bosom. "It's that food they serve in the dining hall, isn't it? It's like eating off a conveyor belt. Where's the nutrition, where's the <em>love</em>?"</p><p>Ike accepted her attentions with the patient docility of a rather well-natured cat. He could smell the brisket in the air - the special brisket - and he knew his mother had probably been cooking</p><p>(Obsessing)</p><p>for hours. He could play nice, and it felt good to be back. Maryland had its charms, its eccentricities, and he was becoming accustomed to it, the strange way the locals elongated their Os (their lips flattening out and dropping; it was so strange to witness); he'd gotten used to crab with Old Bay (he didn't necessarily like it, but hey, when in Rome). Hell, he'd even started pronouncing Baltimore the way the old timers did; dropping the t and i and drawling out the rest: Balmooore. (Gotta elongate the O, hon.)</p><p>But South Park, home and hearth, were not without their charms, and he was more than ready to sink into small town Americana.</p><p>"You can fatten me up this summer," he replied, hefting his bag higher on his shoulder. "How's that?"</p><p>"Don't tease your mother," she replied, pushing on his cheek but she was just so happy. He was thin but he looked good. She glanced at her husband. "Aren't you going to hug him, Gerald? We haven't seen him since midwinter, and the winter was so hard this year. I swear, it's that global warming, why i was looking at the Farmers Almanac just the other day -"</p><p>"Ma, could we sit down or something?" Kyle interjected, moving from foot to foot. "I'm not really crazy about hanging out in the foyer all day."</p><p>She blinked at him, almost like she was coming up from being underwater. "Now you've made me lose my train of thought, bubula, and besides, I don't hear Craig complaining."</p><p>"Craig never complains, it's one of the stranger things about him," Kyle said, slipping his hand into his husband's, comforted by its strength; the warm metal of his wedding ring. </p><p>"One of," Craig smiled before kissing Mrs. Broflovski on the cheek. "How you been, Sheila? Are you going to make my day and tell me that's a brisket I smell?"</p><p>She blushed, ever charmed by this tall, handsome man with the gray eyes. Such an unusual color, striking, really. She often wondered if that was the thing that drew her son to him at the bar. </p><p>She didn't ask, of course, but she could speculate. That was, after all, a mother's right. </p><p>"Why, yes, it is. Enough for leftovers, too. I'll wrap some for you to take home."</p><p>Craig looked at his husband. "How does it feel to be in the presence of a saint?"</p><p>Kyle rolled his eyes. If he let this continue they'd devolve into a mess of schmaltz. Even if he was glad that his mother loved Craig (which was a miracle in itself because she'd never liked anyone he brought home), even though she said he was a regular mensch, he was tired and wanted to sit down. Maybe put on the game and help his father with his latest jigsaw puzzle. </p><p>Or take a nap, he'd decide as the day unfolded. </p><p>"Ma, do you have any beer?" he asked, kicking off his sneakers. "It's hot as hell outside and I'm about to keel over."</p><p>"In the door of the fridge and language." She smiled at her other two boys. "Wanna help me in the kitchen? We can catch up while Kyle nurses his grouchy mood."</p><p>"I'm not grouchy, I'm tired," Kyle said over his shoulder. He was already heading for the kitchen. "I was up early."</p><p>"Doing what, exactly?" Craig asked, that aggravating little teasing note in his voice. As if he didn't know what Kyle was doing that morning; he'd put the bite marks on his shoulders himself, hadn't he? </p><p>Kyle didn't dignify that with an involved answer. "Hush your mouth."</p><p>"They're always doing that, making those little jokes like the rest of us won't figure out what they're really talking about," Ike said to his parents in a stage whisper. "Ma, you raised a pervert."</p><p>"I'm not complaining," Craig said cheerfully, putting an arm around the woman's shoulders. "And I'd be delighted to help you in the kitchen, madam. I'm hopeless as a cook, but I can try to sous-chef. Just lead the way."</p><p>Being in his childhood home had the odd effect of relaxing and annoying Kyle at the same time. Maybe it was his proximity to the memories of his awkward youth or maybe it was the fact that his mother was always ready to pull out his baby pictures, he couldn't be sure, but Kyle fell into a soft complacency as the afternoon wore itself into evening; watching the ball game with his old man and fitting a puzzle together that, when completed, would be an image of antique beer cans. </p><p>"I can Mod Podge and frame it," his father said, tipping his head just so to look through his bifocals. "Hang it over the TV in the front room."</p><p>"And displace our graduation photos? You must be joking," Kyle said, idly watching the Rockies achieve a back to back Jack; a surprise considering their overall record. The crowd lost their minds. Baseball still didn't hold a candle to basketball, but it had grown on him since his Little League days. Besides, he could bond with his dad over it. </p><p>"Eh, it's time for something new. Your mother will understand."</p><p>"No, she won't. Hey, remind me to help you with your kindle before I go, huh?"</p><p>"Dinner's on the table. Ma said to wash up," Ike announced, coming into the room. He studied the puzzle for a moment before breaking out into song, a little ditty their grandpa used to sing before passing a few years ago:</p><p>
  <em>"My beer is Rheingold, the dry beer....think of Rheingold whenever you buy beer..."</em>
</p><p>Which of course prompted their father to join in until the two drove Kyle from the room, but he was hiding a smile as he went. </p><p>Dinner was a lark, boisterous as plates were filled and emptied; the aforementioned brisket the belle of the ball, though it was only heightened by its companions: scalloped potatoes, green salad, kugel. Ike took two helpings of this, kissing his mom on the cheek because she'd remembered to add extra raisins and cinnamon. </p><p>The mood didn't sour until dessert, after the pie had been sliced and the ice cream scooped, all of them around the table and drinking from cups of coffee besides. Sheila was talking about playing dominos before the evening ended when Ike casually announced that he'd like to stay with Kyle and Craig for the first part of the summer; offhand and out of nowhere. </p><p>Four pairs of eyes snapped to him at once but Ike was unruffled, eating his pie and ice cream with vigor.</p><p>"Stay with Kyle?" Sheila asked, scandalized. "But I thought you planned on staying here, bubbe. Remember, we talked about it?"</p><p>"Yeah, I'm planning on splitting things up, now that Kyle and Craig have that big house. You guys have room, right?"</p><p>Kyle glanced at Craig who gave no indication as to his state of mind; indulging in pie like he didn't have a dog in this fight at all. </p><p>Typical. </p><p>"Ike, dude, you could've told me you planned on this," Kyle said, setting his spoon down. "Like, we were in the car together for a million hours today... you didn't think to mention anything?"</p><p>Licking his thumb, Ike helped himself to another slice, the muddled cherries resembling gore. Kyle pushed his bowl away. </p><p>"It slipped my mind, and you have time now, right? You're just working at the coffee shop."</p><p>Sheila perked up at this. True, she'd told her husband she wouldn't bring this subject up but that didn't mean Ike couldn't. </p><p>"I'm not just doing anything," Kyle replied, bristling. "I have a life, you know."</p><p>"Cool, so maybe you'll let your beloved little brother, whom you haven't seen in an age, be a part of it," Ike replied, smiling like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. </p><p>Craig cracked a smile but didn't say anything. </p><p><em>The ball's in your court</em>, his demeanor seemed to say. </p><p>Kyle glanced at him with his own clear implication:</p><p>
  <em>Thanks for nothing, butthead.</em>
</p><p>"It might be good for him, dear. Get a taste of kind of being on his own. See how an adult close to his age lives their life," Gerald piped up, immune to his wife's look of abject disapproval. </p><p>"What's good for him is to be close to his parents, whom he never sees," she sniffed. </p><p>"I'll see you," Ike said. "They live like 20 minutes away, right?"</p><p>"Well, yeah. We aren't far," Kyle conceded, realizing that he'd already lost because, really, he loved his brother. They'd always been close, but still, his <em>audacity</em>. </p><p>"See? No big deal. I'll be coming over to bother you all the time," Ike said like the matter was finalized. "And it's only for part of the time, like I said. I want to get some variety this summer."</p><p>"No, you want to come and go as you please; get into trouble," his mother said, making a show of clutching at her bodice. Oh, her sons never appreciated all of her efforts; God save her from such ungrateful children! "Fine, I can see that your mind is made up." She glanced at Craig. "And you're fine with this? Having an interloper for half of the summer?"</p><p>Looking up, Craig reacted with his typical feline indifference. It made him very easy to deal with but it could also lessen his use as an ally. Well, he couldn't be completely perfect, could he?</p><p>"I just want everyone to be happy," he said, giving Kyle a fond look, the same one he'd given him on their wedding day when all was said and done. "I'm sure we can make all of this work."</p><p>--</p><p>Their new house was a fixer-upper but it suited their needs. It was off on its own the way Craig preferred and had a lot of land; room for a garden and a fire pit, which pleased Kyle. </p><p>It was situated at the end of a long drive that was shadowed with tall trees on either side; up a steep incline that was a bitch to get up during icy winters, but it worked, and it was theirs. They both liked it for its creamy boards and blue shutters; liked it because it reminded them of a gingerbread house from a fairy tale.</p><p>But when they pulled up to the front, Craig let the car idle, quietly putting it in park before speaking to Kyle in that intimate way he had when begging a favor:</p><p>"I think I need the button tonight. May I have it?"</p><p>Ike was fast asleep in the backseat but Kyle glanced at him anyway; concerned. He touched his pocket. </p><p>"Look, if it's because of..." he nodded to his brother, "we can figure this out. I was just surprised."</p><p>Craig touched Kyle's face softly. In the darkness his own countenance was lit by the subtle light of the console; features in shadow. Kyle could still see his stubble, though, the sharpness of his cheekbones. </p><p>"It isn't that. I just feel restless. Promise."</p><p>Sighing, Kyle withdrew the little black button and held it in his palm. They both looked at it, small but its significance was not lost on either of them. In many ways, it was the cornerstone of keeping peace in their relationship. </p><p>Peace in the valley. </p><p>"If it'll help," he murmured, not wanting to wake Ike yet. How could he explain the button? He barely understood the concept himself. "Just...be careful, and don't get into any trouble. Okay?"</p><p>Craig accepted the button, swallowing Kyle's hand with his own when he did; lifting it to kiss and press to his cheek. "I'm just going to blow off some steam. Nothing serious."</p><p>-------</p><p>Jackie and Gordon (Gord to his wife and close friends) McAllister* were just passing through the area, the quaint little mountain town, but when they hit the out of the way rest stop, Jackie had pressed her hand to her mouth; softly yawning, and she'd reached for her husband's sleeve to gently pull it.</p><p>"Let's stay over, okay? It's getting late."</p><p>Gord had to admit that she was right, though he would've been content to keep going until they came to a bigger town, but the hours were weighing heavily on him, and his night vision wasn't nearly as good as it used to be. He nodded and pressed her hand, pulling off to the rest stop and parking their brand new RV off to the side of the lot. The rest stop was large and well lit even if it was empty, and he could clearly see the candy and soda machines glowing softly outside of the bricked building containing a visitor's center and restrooms.</p><p>Everything was deserted at this time of night, though. The janitor had already done his duties and called it a day, hours before. The next person wasn't set to come in until almost dawn.</p><p>The McAllisters didn't know that, of course. They were seasoned travelers, after all they'd been together for over 40 years (married just out of high school) and they'd seen so much of this old world together. But they were new to traveling in an RV, and while they knew they liked it, the freedom of the vast road and that large home on wheels, they were still learning the ropes. Still, they felt safe enough as they readied for bed, washing up at the little sink and slipping into their night clothes; she in a faded gown of flowered cotton and him in his shorts and white t-shirt.</p><p>After they'd checked to make sure the door was locked up tight, they climbed into their bed at the back of the vehicle; the windows covered in screens that had their fair share of squashed insects already.</p><p>"Really, we just left two days ago," she sighed, cuddling closer to Gord. He just laughed softly and readjusted his pillow. Damn thing was still too firm, he needed to soften it up.</p><p>Soon, they were asleep, snoring softly; the tiny clock on the nightstand displaying a ghostly green 12:32; already dreaming little dreams when the dark blue SUV pulled into the lot and parked.</p><p>-----</p><p>Craig hadn't intended to keep Kyle when he discovered him in that shithole bar 3 years before.</p><p>He hadn't planned on keeping anyone that night, not with the way the blood was thrumming in his veins, that need coursing in him that didn't have a face. It was just there; like a tower in his head, it stood in the distance and sometimes the light in the window turned on, blazed bright, and Craig was helpless to ignore it. He saw it from miles away and it was the siren in his universe he was compelled to answer - at any time and for any reason.</p><p>But Kyle, <em>Jesus</em>...he'd been sitting at the bar by himself, and while others might have overlooked his brilliance, Craig didn't. He'd sat under those dim lights, the ones that were probably put there to enhance the ambiance when really they just distracted the patrons from how faded everything was -</p><p>But still, he'd all but lit up in Craig's vision and after that he was all he could see. He watched him for the majority of the evening, nursing his beer and moving through the crowd; a shadow passing over the sea. He was temporary, he didn't leave an impression. He simply was.</p><p>Kyle had been wearing a dark green button up (little black buttons marching up the front), slacks, and a scowl on his face. It wasn't until later that Craig found out he was nursing a broken heart and trying to drink away a terrible break up, but the look on Kyle's face told him so much -</p><p>This person was a lick of flame, trouble; a challenge. He was everything that Craig craved, and when he looked at the way the light caught in those red curls, drenching golden highlights, he could see him in his bed before being laid to rest under dark trees; far, far away where the bones would be founds years later. They'd be discovered and the person who came upon them would wonder, in their horror, who did this person, this creature, used to be? What was their name? How did they find themselves in such a state?</p><p>They'd find them and they'd also wonder, Jesus, who could do this to another human being? It's unthinkable. It's depraved.</p><p>"It's necessary," Craig murmured now, watching the RV for a few minutes before beginning to move. He felt for the button in his pocket before reaching for his knife; fixed-blade, black handle. It was a puukko he'd picked up at a flea market for a song, and it was never far away on nights like this.</p><p>He smelled the air and it was light, almost tangy. It had rained the day before, and the murk of it was still in the air; the thickness. Nearby, he could hear a creek rushing and it was like the forest was whispering to him. He checked his surroundings and made sure they were alone; waiting for someone to wander in that didn't belong, but all was quiet on the western front.</p><p>Time to move, he told himself, sliding from the car and becoming a shadow again; reminiscent of that lost night when he'd come upon Kyle. Sad, pretty Kyle with the smart mouth and big green eyes; eyes that had almost appeared sightless with pleasure when Craig had fucked him the first time.</p><p>He'd told Craig afterward that he'd never slept with a stranger before. Craig had just laughed and brushed the curls from those hazy eyes, had told him that they couldn't possibly be strangers anymore...not after what they'd done; fucking on the kitchen counter, against the wall, finally tumbling into Craig's bed and Kyle had begged him to be rough, to hold him down -</p><p>"Make me feel it," he'd whispered.</p><p>Craig was almost certain that had been the moment he'd started changing his mind about Kyle Broflovski. He'd torn open Kyle's shirt and had smirked to see the buttons popping off, had given Kyle an indulgent smile when he'd told him he owed him a new shirt.</p><p>He'd pocketed one of the buttons for safekeeping. He always liked to keep trophies, even if he didn't make a kill.</p><p>But the button, oh, that was a story for another time, when he wasn't focusing so completely on the RV. He still thought of Kyle, though, because he was never far from his mind, possibly trapped in that fabled tower inside of his head; up at the top where princesses belong. Kept and safe.</p><p>He could hear the night creatures rustling as he approached, body taut and he became the apex predator that man was fashioned to be. Taking a deep breath, he looked around and almost shuddered, that thrum, oh that thrum of his heart and in his pulse waking him up until he thought he'd lose his mind over it -</p><p>He knocked now, a firm, steady rap.</p><p>"Open up, it's the police!" he shouted, and even in his head he sounded like a different person. Maybe he was hearing his true voice; the face behind the masks. He had many. "You need to move your RV; you're parked illegally!"</p><p>There was quiet but then he could hear (feel) the vibrations of movement inside. A light lit up the back windows and he could hear the voices inside - two of them. A man and woman.</p><p>Perfect. So, so perfect.</p><p>Seconds elapsed and then a small male voice called out, and he could hear the years in it. "What's that? Who's out there?"</p><p>"The police, you need to move your RV!" he shouted again. "Open up!"</p><p>Murmurs from inside; no doubt they were discussing the matter between themselves, and he could taste the fear in them. Creatures are often afraid when the knocks at the window come at night; they pull back the curtains and don't realize they're looking into the face of the last thing they'll ever see on this good Earth.</p><p>He knocked again, knife tensed in his hand.</p><p>"Okay, just a second," the man said again, and then the door was opening slowly. Craig waited, tensed and coiled; pure energy, and he was quick when the prey presented itself.</p><p>He took a moment to touch the button one more time, though.</p><p>For good luck.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>trigger warning: disturbing themes, gaslighting, scary shit, i guess? i don't know, i'm not a good judge of this stuff bc w me, anything goes.</p><p>thanks for the response on the first chapter, you guys. you lit up my heart, lol. makes me want to write more. i hope everyone continues to enjoy...i'm enjoying world building bc I always like that, but i think in this regard the characters are so, so important, and if i fuck them up, please let me know, ok?</p><p>anyway, ENJOY &lt;3 hope everyone's doing well :)</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> <strong>Hello,</strong> </em>
  <br/>
  <em> <strong>My name is Mr. fear</strong> </em>
  <br/>
  <em> <strong>I wish I had a faster therapy</strong> </em>
  <br/>
  <em> <strong>I've come</strong> </em>
  <br/>
  <em> <strong>To mind control your needs</strong> </em>
  <br/>
  <em> <strong>Tonight I'm gonna star all of your leads</strong> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>You know</strong> </em>
  <br/>
  <em> <strong>I'll never disappear</strong> </em>
  <br/>
  <em> <strong>Now get me out of here</strong> </em>
  <br/>
  <em> <strong>Just trust in me, my dear</strong> </em>
  <br/>
  <em> <strong>No cure is coming near</strong> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>- Siames, Mr. Fear<br/></strong> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>---</strong> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>--I hallucinate, when you call my name<br/>Got stars in my eyes<br/>And they don't fade, when you come my way<br/>I'm losing my mind, mind, mind, mind<br/>I hallucinate, when you call my name</strong> </em>
</p><p>
  <em> <strong>- Dua Lipa, Hallucinate </strong> </em>
</p><hr/><p>The dawn of his memories were the beginning of him but they were dark. The sun rose, he supposed, but it was eaten by the clouds and while he was aware he existed he didn't understand what it meant and why he'd come to be. He just knew that he was, and there were things that he had to deal with, people in his vicinity that dictated the course and outcome of his circumstances. </p><p>His earliest recollection was brief, a slip, a white thing fading into the mists of his mind. It came to him when he was tired, or just on the cusp of sleep. It reared its head when he hadn't fed for a while, hadn't hunted, and he was weak, so weak -</p><p>He was three at the time, he believed. He couldn't be certain but the way he saw himself led him to this conclusion. He was little and frail and dressed in white pajamas, but the color could be changed by the slant of his mind. Perhaps he remembered himself in white because he was recalling his innocence and not the actuality -</p><p>It was late because these memories always seemed to happen late at night. His mother liked to stay up late because she tended to sleep in. She gloried in the nighttime; watching TV and allowing herself food, and because they shared a bed she noticed when Craig disobeyed. </p><p>She had told him to wear his socks even though it was hot, and he had trouble sleeping with the wool encasing his little feet, so he'd kicked them off and had tried to relax that way, but she'd noticed. </p><p>He was so little but she'd been angry, because he'd disobeyed, and over something as small and unimportant as not wearing his socks to bed. </p><p>She'd pulled him out of bed late, late at night and hit him, and he'd scattered because he didn't understand this anger. It seemed so large and not fitting for the moment, but he was small and he trusted her. More than anything, he was sorry and begging for her to still love him. </p><p>He'd run to hide in the desk room, where the books and the roll top desk were, to try and hide in the hard and sharp darkness; tucking himself in under the desk and pressing his face to his knees. He'd trembled and let the tears soak into his skin, waiting; praying not to be found but also craving it; to be found and held close, to be told that he was still loved despite his disobedience. He could hear her searching for him, calling for him, alternating between obscenities and coaxing, and he almost thought he'd lose his bladder all over the carpet.</p><p>He waited in the still, silent darkness where the light from the kitchen just fell, just a little, and cried himself into a fretful sleep. When he came to he wasn't sure if it was still night or morning, but that's where the memory ended for the adult remembering it -</p><p>It passed into the years and became the earliest thing he could recall from childhood; laying the framework for the life that was waiting to be lived. It shaped and molded him, becoming a foundation; wounding him as he grew, even if he didn't realize it. </p><p>-----</p><p>Kyle was strict about structure and routine. He was fond of rules. He liked having things in their places and his ducks in a row. </p><p>Craig liked that Kyle was this way, both for his own preoccupations and his husband's obvious need for guidance. The two worked very well together, often seeming to become two ribbons that laced together in perfect harmony. They had created a universe that worked for them. </p><p>The morning after the knock came at Jackie and Gord McCallister's RV door, Kyle was attending to his usual chores in the usual way:</p><p>Up at 7 am (unless Craig had other ideas and wanted to fuck, in which case it was anyone's guess as to when they'd actually get up...), shower, groom himself, dress in one of Craig's big shirts to go down and start breakfast -</p><p>Bottomless because Craig liked to look at him and Kyle liked to be seen. It was a little thing they did (among several) to keep the spice in their marriage. </p><p>While Kyle fried up bacon and poached eggs, Craig would languidly rise as well and succumb to his own routine: running on the treadmill and attacking the punching bag dangling from the ceiling; hands wrapped thickly, but no gloves. He'd sweat and enjoy the ache in his muscles, the sheer exhilaration of his body in movement; strong, unstoppable. </p><p>As Craig finished up and jumped in the shower, Kyle would be meticulously setting the table; cloth napkins, cut glass tumblers, nice porcelain plates; heavy cutlery. He liked things to be pretty. After surveying the spread he would decide that it wasn't perfect but it was acceptable, and then go to feed Klickitat. </p><p>"Come on, Klick," he cooed as the cat wound its chubby, fluffy body around Kyle's bare ankles, tickling them. Kyle filled the creature's pristine, silver food bowl with the expensive chow from the upscale pet store and frowned when the cat blinked at it without showing an ounce of interest. </p><p>The cat had always been stubborn, as was the way of felines, but Kyle loved him beyond reason. He was a carryover from his old life, and while he didn't like to remember how they'd come to find each other, that didn't lessen his devotion. </p><p>"Prima donna," he muttered, filling the cat's water bowl from the Brita pitcher cooling in the fridge. "That tiny bag of food set me back 50 bucks."</p><p>"That's why I've told you before it isn't worth it," Craig said, coming into the kitchen; hair still damp and dressed in his work slacks and white button-up; expertly pressed and perfectly laundered by his husband. "That beast eats out of the garbage... he doesn't need gourmet cat food."</p><p>"Klick ate out of the garbage once and now you'll never let him live it down," Kyle replied, turning to sooth the cat's no doubt wounded feelings. He and Craig had never really taken to one another. He blinked to see that the cat had disappeared. </p><p>"Ran out about 30 seconds ago," Craig smiled, picking up the mug of coffee Kyle had prepared for him: plain creamer, Splenda, extra strong. He wanted the drink to rise up and slap him awake. </p><p>"I swear, that cat is so high-strung sometimes." Rising up on his toes, Kyle reached into a cabinet and grabbed down a mug for himself. </p><p>Craig watched, passing into the blank reverie he assumed whenever he had a chance to observe his husband without his knowledge. Really, whenever he had an occasion to watch anyone while they were unaware. </p><p>But this was different because Kyle was different. Kyle had to realize he was being watched; he wanted to be seen by Craig. Why else would he linger to look for a mug at the back of the cabinet when there were plenty at the front; his (Craig's) shirt riding up and revealing that pert, pale backside; ghosts of bruises across it from a nice thorough spanking....</p><p>Craig managed to look away, though it was a trial, to notice there were only two places set at the table. Kyle had clearly forgotten they had a visitor. He was always hazy in the morning because he took a sizable dose of ambien before bed - he'd always been such a poor sleeper - and it fucked with his memory. </p><p>And here he was bottomless and on full display, when his little brother could walk in any minute. Craig's hands clenched on his cup as he considered what he should do; remind him or watch as the situation played itself out. </p><p>Ruminating, he took this opportunity to fish out the button and lay it on the counter. Kyle finally settled on a cup and turned around, catching sight of the object immediately; a slight widening of the eyes. Instead of picking it up, he began making his own coffee. </p><p>"You got in late," he said quietly. </p><p>Craig thought he detected the sound of movement upstairs. He watched as Kyle moved, so confident and at ease in his space. </p><p>"I didn't think you noticed... you seemed pretty out of it," he replied. </p><p>"I mean, I wasn't really thinking straight but I heard you. It was, what, after 3? I think?" Kyle stirred raw sugar into his cup. </p><p>"I doubt it was that late," Craig said indifferently, going to sit. He wanted to see the doorway when Ike walked in. </p><p>Kyle looked at him and suddenly he wasn't as sure of his memories. Ambien did seem to rearrange things in his head, and Craig was very cognizant of details other people didn't seem to care about. </p><p>"Well, I could be wrong," Kyle said softly. Going to the stove, he lifted the pan of bacon. </p><p>"True." Craig waited and watched, enjoying himself very much. Kyle had been partially right, he had gotten in late, but it was after 4, not 3. He didn't need to know that, though; the important thing was that Craig had come home safe and sound after attending to his affairs.</p><p>"Here we go," Kyle said, bouncing back from his confusion as he served his husband, always excited to cook for and dote on him. He was sliding a poached egg onto Craig's plate when Ike wandered into the room, hair mussed and heavy-eyed. He was wearing boxers and a powder blue t-shirt with 3 howling wolves on it. </p><p>Kyle dropped his fork with a clatter when he saw his brother, moving around the table to hide; flushing. Craig looked on, serene and smiling. </p><p>"Morning," he called. "There's coffee."</p><p>Ike grunted, moving like a zombie to the maker. Kyle looked at Craig and nodded toward the door. </p><p>"I'll be right back," he mouthed, intent on making his escape before Ike noticed his half-undressed state. </p><p>Craig feigned confusion. "Why, what's wrong?" he asked in a normal voice. </p><p>Kyle pleaded with his eyes, pulling at his shirt. Craig looked, reaching to slide a large hand around Kyle's little, bared hip. </p><p>"Ahh, gotcha. Go on, then. Although I'm sure your brother doesn't care."</p><p>"Doesn't care about what?" Ike asked, coming over; mug in hand. His eyes were red. He stopped when he saw Kyle's face, the panic in it. Looking down, he saw Craig's hand on his husband's -</p><p>"Oh, my God, I'm sorry. I'm sorry," Ike said, turning around and blushing hot. </p><p>"No, no, no, you're fine. I'll go... put on... I'll just go," Kyle said, scooting out of the kitchen like his feet were on fire. </p><p>Craig served himself some bacon, smiling wider when Ike finally found the courage to turn and face him. </p><p>"How'd you sleep? The guest room wasn't too hot, was it? It can get kind of stuffy."</p><p>Hesitating, Ike was relieved to see Craig taking things in stride; from what he'd heard and seen of him, this seemed to be his way. Still, he felt uneasy seeing his brother in a different light than he was accustomed; grown up. Sexual. He wasn't prepared to really contemplate the bedroom portions of Kyle's marriage, even if he liked to joke about them. </p><p>"Um, no, it was fine," he said, slowly sitting down. He glanced between the two place settings. "I guess he forgot i was here."</p><p>Graciously, Craig offered Ike the pan of bacon. "Don't take it to heart, he's always forgetful in the morning because of his sleep meds."</p><p>Ike was preparing to take a bite, the bacon halfway to his mouth, when he heard this. He stopped, confused. "Since when does Kyle need something to help him sleep."</p><p>Craig shrugged, slicing cleanly into his poached egg and watching the yolk drip velvety smooth across the plate. "Ever since we've been together. He has insomnia. You should see him without the medication... he can stay up until dawn, sleep for two hours, and then be awake for the rest of the day. I've never seen anything like it."</p><p>"Hmm." He watched Craig eat for a moment, cheerful and relaxed; handsome with his smooth dark hair and sharp jaw. He ate neatly, wiping his mouth often. "Kyle slept okay when we were kids."</p><p>Gray eyes met his, and for a moment Ike felt off-balance, but it passed swiftly; more a notion than anything else. </p><p>"Is that so?" Sighing, Craig leaned back and crossed his legs, sipping his coffee. "You know, I often try to imagine Kyle as a kid... what was he like? Let's take a stroll down memory lane."</p><p>"Hasn't he talked about it already? I mean, I'm sure our mom has shown you every baby picture she has."</p><p>"Yeah, but those are just pictures, you know? Static images, posed. Okay, maybe some are candid but it's not the same as talking to someone that was there for the day to day, and Kyle can be so close-mouthed about things."</p><p>"He was just a weird kid. Got into stupid situations with his equally weird friends," Ike replied. "I've never really thought about it."</p><p>"He cares about you a lot," Craig said, slicing into another egg and watching it split and ooze. He'd done that with an eyeball once; had marveled at the jelly that had seeped out. "We're glad you're here, by the way. Just make yourself at home, huh?"</p><p>"What about you?" Ike asked, staring at him. Craig's skin was so smooth, it was hard to believe he was almost thirty. </p><p>Craig became still, noticing the way he was being appraised and not necessarily minding it, though he wasn't used to it; being watched. Typically he was the watcher. </p><p>Interesting. </p><p>"What about me?"</p><p>"What about your childhood? Kyle hasn't really told me very much about you."</p><p>A pluck of irritation in his gut, low moving like a current under the water that never quite reached the surface. Craig laughed lightly. </p><p>"Very run of the mill, that's probably why Kyle hasn't mentioned it. No one's going to be writing my life story anytime soon." Glancing over, he saw Kyle returning but he seemed subdued and dark-cheeked; dressed in jeans and a Chinpokomon t-shirt. Adorable. "Oh, baby, come here."</p><p>Kyle scowled at him. "I need more coffee."</p><p>"Kyle, man, I didn't see anything, I promise," Ike offered. </p><p>"Can I be permitted a moment to reclaim my dignity, please?" With a saucy tilt of his head, Kyle went about refreshing his cup, playing off his injured pride with hostility, such was his way. </p><p>"Reclaim it all you want, I have to get out of here if I'm gonna beat the traffic," Craig said, winking at Ike before standing, long and lean. He went to Kyle and wrapped his arms around him from behind. </p><p>"Babe, life goes on," he murmured in his ear, relishing the shiver moving through his husband's body. </p><p>"You could've reminded me," Kyle whispered back fiercely. </p><p>Craig let him go, his voice mild now. "Who's to say i didn't forget, too?"</p><p>"Because you never forget anything," Kyle snapped. </p><p>"Hey, are you guys fighting? I don't want to cause any trouble, seriously," Ike spoke up, rising from his chair. </p><p>Craig didn't look at him when he spoke, preferring to look at Kyle; eyes locked. He was still calm. "No, we don't fight. Do we, Kyle?"</p><p>"We have disagreements which we've agreed are not the same. They're - "</p><p>"Discussions." They said at the same time. </p><p>Kyle looked at the button, still lying innocently on the table. "Will you be needing that today?"</p><p>In a flash, Craig was all smiles and charm again because, really, what was there to be mad about? Kyle had forgotten something, Craig had had a chance to be amused, and now they were moving on with their day. </p><p>"Nah, put it back where it belongs." Leaning, he kissed Kyle's throat, nipping just a little. "Tonight, I think. You seem like you need some attention."</p><p>Kyle flicked his eyes to Ike, glad that he'd turned away. He was feeling warm, thinking about Craig's implication because, yes, he needed his attention badly. </p><p>"Please, I'd like that," he murmured, sliding his hand to take up the button, clenching his fingers around it. </p><p>-----</p><p>He didn't have to work that day so he had the chance to show Ike around, not that there was really that much to see. The substance of his life with Craig wasn't necessarily tangled in their surroundings so much as their routines; their rituals, one could say. </p><p>After Kyle cleaned the kitchen until it was showroom new, scrubbing and detailing and polishing, he placed the button in the special box on his dresser; a box Craig had purchased for him ages ago when they went to the seashore. It had coral and tiny shells on it, the box itself made of cheap ceramic. It was heavy and Kyle had taken to it when they were in a trashy little gift shop on the boardwalk. </p><p>Craig had kissed his mouth, tasting of funnel cake and smelling of salt, and had told him he'd buy Kyle the hideous little souvenir if it would make him happy. Kyle had told him to stop being a snob but he'd laughed about the box afterward, wondering why he'd been so drawn to it in the first place. </p><p>"So, uh, is everything okay?" Ike asked, sitting on the edge of the bed. He was still in his sleep clothes. </p><p>Kyle nodded, gesturing for Ike to stand so he could make the bed; military style, sheets so tight he could bounce a quarter off of them. </p><p>"Yeah, Craig just annoyed me. He has a mean streak sometimes but it's no big deal. It keeps things fresh."</p><p>Ike watched, awkwardly moving out of the way while Kyle made the bed like he'd written a book on the subject; tucking, folding. By the end, the giant bed looked like it belonged in a resort with its heavy, jewel-toned comforter and mountains of pillows. </p><p>"What do you mean, mean streak?" Ike asked, following as Kyle tidied the room, the bathroom; moving as if this had all been choreographed in advance. He'd never seen his brother so focused. </p><p>"Oh, he likes to keep things interesting by amusing himself, so he teases me." Going through the house, he straightened and fussed, feeling more and more relaxed as things fell into place. </p><p>He hadn't always been like this, even if he enjoyed order. It wasn't until Craig came into his life that he realized just how much he'd been craving this sort of peace; the solace of having a place for everything, structure; rules to govern his existence. It made him feel so warm, so safe. </p><p>He hadn't felt safe before Craig. Sure, he hadn't felt safe the first night they'd been together but he hadn't been afraid either. Just...exhilarated, out of control. Alive. So, so alive; flying from the feeling of Craig's lips on him, his teeth; being held in place, begging for it -</p><p><em>Put me back where I belong</em>, he'd thought at the time. </p><p>Shaking his head, he came back to himself, back from the place where Craig, and thoughts of Craig, always took him. It was a strange headspace, both dark and light, but it was so comfortable sinking into it. </p><p>"Let's finish my chores and then make something special for dinner," he said, glancing at Ike. "And go change into some real clothes. Just because you're with me instead of mom doesn't mean you can be a raggedy bum all summer."</p><p>"Fine, fine," Ike said, relieved to see a little of the old bossy Kyle coming out of hiding. He couldn't deny that his brother seemed happy but the way he went away sometimes, eyes glassing over, was cause for concern. He was in the room and gone from it at the same time. </p><p>He also wanted to ask why his brother had quit his job, a lucrative position as an investment banker, to hang around the house all day, it would seem - unless he was working his part time stint at Tweak Brothers. He refrained, not wanting to sound like their mom, nagging and prying, but still, the curiosity (and concern) were waking up in his head the more he saw. </p><p>Kyle's "chores" were pretty humdrum, even if they seemed excessive; vacuuming-</p><p>"We have to have the lines in the carpet," Kyle said, angling the Dyson just so to get the right look. "See? Doesn't that look nice?"</p><p>- mopping, dusting, polishing, scrubbing -</p><p>"Kyle, the house already seemed pretty clean," Ike said after watching Kyle work for hours, that glazed expression creeping over his face as the time elapsed. It was starting to make him really uneasy. "Maybe you should take a break."</p><p>Kyle looked around, the fixtures gleaming, everything smelling of lemon, of cleanliness, and he slowly came back. He nodded, getting off of his knees where he was watering one of his many plants; a ficus named Larry. </p><p>"Sure, yeah. I'll wash up, make us a snack, and then we can start on dinner."</p><p>In the glittering kitchen, Kyle made them turkey sandwiches, cutting them into precise halves; served with chips and tall glasses of lemonade with slices of lemon floating prettily on top. </p><p>"Please tell me you still do this," Kyle said, peeling back the top of his sandwich and layering it with doritos; putting the bread back on and pressing down with a satisfying crunch. He held it up, raising his eyebrows. </p><p>"Dude, like I'd ever stop," Ike laughed, following suit, some of his discomfort evaporating; the rest held on, though, like clouds rolling in at the edge of the ocean. Slowly, he ate, watching his brother. He looked healthy, maybe a little thin, but there was color in his cheeks, his eyes vivid when they weren't faraway. </p><p>"So, um, what does Craig do again? I always forget."</p><p>Kyle set down his sandwich to sip from his lemonade, pink lips settling around a white and red striped straw; it looked like he was sucking on peppermint candy. He closed his eyes, envisioning Craig in his office, at his big desk and his stomach clenched. He just wanted him to come home. </p><p>Oh, how he craved him at this point in the day, especially when he stayed out late the night before. It was like having withdrawal. </p><p>"He's the head actuary at an insurance company called Coventry." He waved a hand. "He tells me he puts a dollar amount on people's lives."</p><p>"Huh," Ike mused, "that sounds uplifting."</p><p>Kyle made a noncommittal noise. As long as Craig liked it well enough that was all that mattered to him. "His father was an actuary, too."</p><p>"Was?"</p><p>"Yeah, he's dead. He and Craig weren't close," Kyle said flippantly. Ike didn't know it but he was using the same tone Craig had used when he'd given Kyle this news; when they'd first started dating:</p><p>
  <em>"Croaked after having a heart attack. Just slumped over his desk and that was that; Thomas Tucker doesn't live here anymore."</em>
</p><p>Kyle had been concerned at Craig's indifference, his blatant disregard for the occasion, but he had to figure that not everyone was close with their father. It was a sad fact of life, a bitter truth, but it was one he had to accept. If anything, it made him feel more protective of Craig.</p><p>"What about his mom?" Ike asked, layering the other half of his sandwich with Doritos.</p><p>"She's still alive, his sister, too," Kyle replied, pushing his plate away. "She lives out in Grand Junction in a double-wide...out where all the mesas are, you know?"</p><p>Ike nodded, trying to picture it; the dusty little town in the desert. He'd been there several years ago but the place hadn't left a huge impression on him. "Does he see her?"</p><p>Kyle shook his head. Craig called his mom on occasion, if he felt truly compelled to, but the action always left him in a foul, dark mood. Kyle got the sense that it was done solely out of obligation instead of an actual hunger for maternal connection.</p><p>"He sends her money. Beyond that, I don't know. We don't really talk about that stuff very much. He's kind of close with his sister, though. Tricia. She's nice enough. A little weird, though."</p><p>Ike looked away as he covered his mouth. "Maybe it just runs in the family."</p><p>Kyle swatted his arm. "Brat. So, are you going to help me with dinner or not?"</p><p>"I guess. What are we having?"</p><p>"Oh, I thought I'd keep it simple and just make a lasagna from scratch. It's Craig's favorite." Rising, Kyle collected their plates, Ike staring after him as he, once again, cleaned up until it looked like they were sitting in a model kitchen they were merely visiting for the day.</p><p>"That doesn't sound simple at all, man."</p><p>"You'll see, it's easy as pie," Kyle replied, waving him over.</p><p>Soon, they were ensconced in the involved process of making lasagna; boiling noodles, making sauce, sauteing meat. Kyle moved around the kitchen like he was on a cooking show, chopping and stirring and humming.</p><p>"Okay, Stepford Wife, what is the deal here?" Ike finally asked, watching as Kyle popped the finished product into the oven. He looked up, his forehead furrowed.</p><p>"Huh?"</p><p>"Oh, come on. The cooking, the cleaning, the...just everything I've seen today. What the hell is going on?" Leaning on the counter, Ike crossed his arms and waited.</p><p>Kyle stared at him. "I'm not sure I understand the question."</p><p>Ike rolled his eyes toward the ceiling and prayed for patience. "Kyle, you were working 60 hour weeks before, at least that's what ma told me, and now - "</p><p>"Daddy's home," Craig announced, suddenly walking into the room from the hall; loosening his collar as he went. "Jesus, it's hot outside, and muggy. I wish this heat front would fuck off." He paused, looking between the brothers, sensing an odd tension and trying to adapt to it. "Everything okay in here?"</p><p>Kyle shook off Ike's question with the grace of a duck letting water droplets slide from its feathers. Going to his husband, he hugged him close, his cheek against his chest. "We were just finishing up dinner. I didn't know you'd be so early."</p><p>"Eh, I wanted to get out of there as soon as I got in, and I figured you'd be making something special for Ike's first night. I picked up wine on the way home. Shit," he pulled out his car keys. "I left it in the car, be right back."</p><p>He departed, leaving the pair alone to regard each other. Kyle was quick to shrug off the whole conversation, not seeing the sense or reason in it. "I'm going to take a shower before dinner. You're welcome to do whatever you want, watch TV...the pool is set to go if you wanted to swim. Just make yourself comfortable."</p><p>He left the room before Ike could reply, left to his thoughts and devices for a moment in the good-smelling kitchen. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a tortoiseshell cat stroll into the room, rubbing against cabinets; perking up to see Ike and meowing softly.</p><p>"Aw, you must be Klick. Kyle's told me about you," he said, kneeling down and holding out a hand. The cat came toward him before stopping; head held aloft and ear cocked. Tensing, it turned and ran from the room right as Craig was entering.</p><p>"Skittish thing," he said, smiling at Ike. He held up a bottle. "We'll tie one on tonight, huh?"</p><p>-----</p><p>Dinner was eaten on the patio as night fell; the stars opening their eyes and becoming little silver flames. The air was warm and fragrant with fresh flowers; roses and petunias. There were pots filled with them all over, hanging from the deck and stacked on the edge of a patio that faded into a large green lawn; a blue pool glimmering, little currents kicking up from the sluggish winds passing through.</p><p>They all imbibed on the expensive red wine (a Colorado Cabernet Franc) that Craig had brought home until they were loose and sleepy, filling up on green salad with poppyseed dressing and the lasagna Kyle had slaved over.</p><p>"Oh, this is so good," Craig moaned, taking seconds. He looked at Kyle with adoration. "You outdid yourself, but that's nothing new."</p><p>"Don't forget Ike, he helped," Kyle replied, patting Ike's arm. He was sitting back with his legs crossed, his wine balanced on his knee. He sighed, contented but also coiling up on the inside. Thinking of later.</p><p>"Well, thank you," Craig said, nodding at Ike. "You're a credit to the force."</p><p>Ike covered his mouth, a low giggle rising from his throat. Wine always went right to his head; made him punchy. "Kyle was a man on a mission, I was just along for the ride."</p><p>"Sounds about right." Taking out his phone, he checked his email; relieved to see he hadn't gotten anything from work. Sliding his eyes toward Kyle, he began to speak casually; heart beat rising slowly into a pulsing little drum in his chest. "I read something really weird today."</p><p>Kyle looked at him, sleepily and politely interested. "Oh? I like weird."</p><p>"Maybe not this kind. There was a double murder up near Swan Mountain."</p><p>Kyle felt a coldness move through him; fingers of ice opening themselves in his belly. "That's not far from here at all."</p><p>"That's wild," Ike said, his response hampered by alcohol, but a current of unease slid up his backbone.</p><p>Holding up his phone, Craig shook it a little; that light of euphoria waking itself up in his brain; the tower in the distance dark for now, but oh, the lights would turn on soon. "Jackie and Gordon McAllister. Apparently they were starting out on a road trip in their RV. Came down from Ontario and were just passing through. Wanted to hit all the major US landmarks over the summer."</p><p>Kyle swallowed some wine but the flavor was off now. "What happened?"</p><p>"Someone surprised them at a rest stop...got in somehow, gained their trust, I guess, and stabbed them to death. Says here the woman was stabbed -"</p><p>"Never mind, I don't want to know," Kyle said quickly, moving to gather their plates. Craig watched, feeling the tension in Kyle; feeling it and while he didn't like seeing him unhappy, he liked that he could change his emotions on a dime; a subtle push and he could make someone feel whatever he wanted - if he was so inclined.</p><p>"I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to upset you," he said, grabbing onto Kyle as he passed by. "I just thought you guys should know in order to be aware, you know? Be alert."</p><p>Kyle's lips pressed into a thin line, and he was trying not to imagine the scenario Craig had painted, but he could still see it; dim and far in his head like a photograph slowly developing. A couple, alone at night, it's so dark and all they have is each other...they're far from home and possibly tucked into bed, asleep, and then the monster finds them, and it's hungry, so hungry -</p><p>"Let's have dessert!" he said. "It's just brownies I bought at the bakery, not homemade, but they'll do, I think."</p><p>And so the evening passed, sorting itself out until they were all nodding, or at least beginning to, and Kyle was so desperate for Craig's attention that he was pressing his thighs together. Craig noticed, giving him that fatherly look of indulgence that was foreplay in and of itself, and he was announcing that it was time for bed.</p><p>"Are you comfortable enough?" Kyle asked Ike before they parted at the top of the stairs, anxious now to make sure that he was doing okay, that he was being taken care of; looked after. If their mother caught wind that Kyle wasn't being accommodating, he'd never hear the end of it.</p><p>"Everything's fine, stop worrying about me. I swear, you're just like ma," Ike said, yawning behind his hand; looking up to see Craig watching them from the doorway of the master bedroom. He waved. "Night, man."</p><p>Craig nodded, looking to Kyle, hungry for him in his own right. It was a relief for them to retire to their room where they could shut the door and lock it. Just in case.</p><p>"You put the button in your box, I assume," he said, beginning to undress. Very carefully, he reached into his pocket; fingers tightening around a small object he'd been carrying all day; fueling him because it was so right, so sweet.</p><p>"I did, yes," Kyle replied, voice already fading into that tranquil place he achieved when he was cleaning; but this was different. Craig always made it different. Better.</p><p>"Good boy," he said, taking the small object and placing it in Kyle's little box, closing the lid tight. He continued to undress. "Do you want me to instruct you? Tell me what you need, Kyle."</p><p>"I need you," Kyle said, his mouth becoming wet. Craig was revealing himself, pale skin, elegant, sculpted torso. He was so beautiful in the lamplight. "I need you to put me back where I belong."</p><p>"And why is that?"</p><p>"I'm out of sorts. You were gone last night and I missed you, and then that story about that couple...how could someone do that and just move on with their lives like nothing happened?"</p><p>"Calm," Craig replied, going to Kyle and gently touching his face; cradling it between his hands. "That's far away and not a part of what we have right here. You're safe with me. Okay?"</p><p>Kyle could only nod, closing his eyes and nuzzling against Craig's hands. He smelled sweet, like clean sweat and hours-old cologne. He felt lips being pressed to his forehead, and whenever they began this way he could recall the night they'd first met, being alone and angry at the bar, nursing drinks and just wanting to burn everything down in his life; start fresh. Find a new version of himself that could be loved, wanted by someone.</p><p>And then Craig had sat down beside him, had ordered wine, had started a conversation in such a simple way -</p><p>
  <em>"You look like you need someone to talk to."</em>
</p><p>Kyle had just blinked, had been ready to tell him to fuck off, that he didn't need someone's pity; wasn't looking to be hit on, and then he'd seen the clear light in Craig's strange, pretty eyes. He started to fall right there.</p><p>"Undress," Craig said now, softly; a hush against Kyle's skin. "And then kneel. You don't have to have perfect posture but I want you to be aware of your breaths, your heart. Can you do that for me?"</p><p>Kyle nodded again, not wanting to speak, wanting to rely on his movements, his actions; Craig could speak for him; could speak and think for them both. Rising, he took off his clothes, slowly, feeling Craig watching, and this made a delicious flush pass over his skin. He began to feel warm and tingly, and he was already sinking even before he'd taken his place on the floor; thighs slightly spread, wrists crossed over the small of his back; back and head straight, chin parallel to the floor.</p><p>"Beautiful," Craig spoke, lulling him; softening him, until Kyle's bones started to feel like water. The fears and worries in his head started dropping away, and slowly the haze took over, and it was so nice -</p><p>So safe.</p><p>"How are you feeling, Kyle? Talk to me, please."</p><p>Kyle licked his lips, managing to hold his head above water for a moment. "Good. Relaxed."</p><p>Craig gazed at him, knowing the sound in Kyle's voice for what it was; he was dropping fast; down into that deep part of his brain that craved instruction and order. He'd been so chaotic when they first met, but Craig had managed to rein him in over time, and now he was so lovely; his beautiful, obedient boy. They'd needed each other and by the grace of the universe they'd managed to meet; Kyle becoming the cloud that covered Craig like the sun; both of them protected and safe.</p><p>He was loveliest like this; fully on display. Craig could study his body, small and bordering on frail; pale skin and little bird bones sliding. He could almost see them, could feel them cracking in his hands - if he chose to do something like that, of course, but he liked keeping Kyle together, even if he could imagine the way his flesh would look if it happened to part; scarlet blood seeping up and blooming like flowers he could collect.</p><p>"Do you want to go to sleep after this, or do you need me to fuck you?"</p><p>Kyle moaned, spreading his thighs a little wider. "Yes, I need you. Hold me down -"</p><p>"Make you feel it," Craig finished, going to Kyle's box and opening the lid; drawing out the pretty golden ring that he'd lifted off of Jackie McAllister's finger after he'd finished with her; turned her from the pile of stinking meat she'd become and making her transcend - changing her into something he could be proud of. Something that could belong to the stars and the Earth alike; passing into pure, untarnished energy.</p><p>It was a little ritual he had, slipping the spoil into the box to mingle with the button; the trophy and the talisman touching and fusing, even if Kyle never realized what was happening. After all was said and done, he'd slip the article into his own little box, but that was hidden away where no one could find it except for him. For now, he put the ring back, having wanted to touch it and the button before attending to Kyle; his needy, trembling, lovely Kyle. If only he could slip him in a little box to carry with him always.</p><p>"So good," he murmured, going to him and kneeling on the floor; leaning to press his lips to Kyle's wet, open mouth so they could taste each other. "I'll take care of you, okay? The monsters aren't in here with us, remember that. They're out there, far away."</p><p>"Forever?" Kyle asked, opening his eyes to see Craig naked before him, and he wanted to be taken so badly, fucked so hard; Craig deep inside him until he forgot his own name.</p><p>"Forever," Craig smiled, kissing him again; slipping his tongue into a warm, panting mouth.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Trigger warning: mentions of past violence/murder. I don't know how to adequately warn you guys. The whole concept of this story isn't safe, so please consider the tags and take them seriously. </p>
<p>There's references to Jeffrey Dahmer in this part. Not explicitly, but the first time he almost killed someone it was a jogger he became fixated on... the jogger was very fortunate and avoided that fate, but the story stuck with me, so I combined that with Dahmer's actual first murder, so... yeah. </p>
<p>Anyway, I hope you enjoy even though I'm dabbling in some weird shit in this story, but I guess if you've read enough of my stuff you'll see that that's kind of my bread and butter, lmao</p>
<p>HAPPY 2021, YOU GUYS ❤❤❤</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> <strong>Here we go again</strong> </em>
  <br/>
  <em> <strong>We're sick like animals</strong> </em>
  <br/>
  <em> <strong>We play pretend</strong> </em>
  <br/>
  <em> <strong>You're just a cannibal</strong> </em>
  <br/>
  <em> <strong>And I'm afraid I won't get out alive</strong> </em>
  <br/>
  <em> <strong>No, I won't sleep tonight</strong> </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> <strong>- Animal, Neon Trees</strong> </em>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>If you asked anyone that remembered the incident, they'd say Craig Tucker's birth was atypical but unremarkable. </p>
<p>He came into the world in the heart of January, the snow blowing cold and hard, and he was a surprise. That's not to say his mother wasn't expecting him at all, she was already in her third trimester for God's sake, but he was early. Three weeks early, in fact. </p>
<p>She thought at the time that she just had a backache; pretty typical for a woman in her condition; carrying 40 extra pounds; the baby having dropped pretty recently. Her ankles were twice their normal size, she had to pee every 10 minutes, like the kid was tapdancing on her bladder; she was accustomed to discomfort. She'd come to expect it. </p>
<p>So she drank some hot tea and took a warm shower, letting the water pelt her lower back. She lay down with her hot pad and tried to get comfortable. She didn't think about calling her husband or the doctor because like everything else, this too would pass. </p>
<p>But it didn't. In fact, it got much, much worse, and by the time she broke down and called her husband it was already too late; little Craig Tucker was on his way regardless of whether or not the world was ready for him -</p>
<p>And the world was never truly ready to receive someone like him. </p>
<p>Mrs. Tucker (Laura - Laurie to her few friends) managed to crawl to the dining room before all hell broke loose, and then the day, which was already dark from the snow, dissolved into a fever dream of chaos and pain that felt red, pain that split her open until she didn't feel human anymore. </p>
<p>Through the tide of agony, she seemed to warp several times; passing from animalistic fear to all-consuming rage; winding down to whimper when she was just too tired and afraid to keep pushing, to keep fighting a battle that seemed hellbent on making her break. </p>
<p>"Keep going, you can do it," the fire chief told her, because in all the confusion they were the ones who arrived when the emergency call went out. He spoke to her the way he'd speak to a wounded, skittish animal. </p>
<p>She nodded, screaming between her teeth when another contraction came from nowhere and it felt like there was something unzipping her guts, like the baby wasn't trying to slide out of the birth canal; no, it was going to tear its way out. </p>
<p>"Jesus," the other fireman said when Laura squeezed his hand until the bones creaked. </p>
<p>Mr. Tucker, Thomas, stood by and watched, feeling useless because, really, what could he do at that point? He could put a baby in his wife but he certainly had no idea how to get it out - correctly, at any rate. </p>
<p>"Oop, there's the head," the fire chief said, wanting to give the poor woman some comfort; wanting to call to attention the light at the end of the tunnel. It was far but it was there. "We're in the home stretch here, just stay with me; push into your bottom; good, good."</p>
<p>When the baby finally, finally came, it felt like days had passed between the hot shower she'd taken that morning; humming Bobby Vinton to herself, and the ultimate carnage she found herself lying in; a mess of blood and sweat and fluids that embarrassed her, and she'd expected to feel vindicated when the baby was placed in her arms, warm and pinkish-blue in the old orange bath towel, but that hadn't been the case. </p>
<p>She was glad that the ordeal was over, who wouldn't be? But the overwhelming burst of love and adoration just didn't come when she looked into the baby's pinched, red face. If anything, she felt confusion and a profound disconnect, looking between herself and this new foreign creature, and all she could wonder was, this is it? This is what all the buildup was for?</p>
<p>"Would you look at that?" her husband said, coming over and studying the baby's face. "He didn't come out too bad, huh? All things considered?"</p>
<p>Blank-faced, she nodded, becoming aware of the smells surrounding this event; sharp, the blood and the acrid odor of the sweat clinging to her; how dirty and used up she felt. </p>
<p>This odor, in an odd way, reminded her of the baby's conception. Lying under her husband and keeping her eyes tightly shut as she waited for him to finish. </p>
<p>The baby took this opportunity to let out a warbling cry of discontent, startling his mother for a moment, but on the heels of it, at the core, the small as yet unknown place inside of her, a throb of quiet rage was nursed. </p>
<p>On the outside, though, she reacted the way one would expect a new mother to respond, with soft words and hugging the baby closer; the sweetness of its scent laced with something primal that some of her instincts could understand. </p>
<p>But inside, something was born in her the moment her son was born to the world, and even if she wasn't fully aware of it at the time, it would grow as Craig grew; eclipsing the maternal instinct with something far more insidious -</p>
<p>Resentment. </p>
<p>-----</p>
<p>Tweak Brothers was busy for a Wednesday morning but Kyle wasn't complaining. He was happy to be out, productive, and he was still coasting on the high of his husband's attentive, thorough care from the night before. </p>
<p>The strap had been brought out at Kyle's request, in fact he'd begged for it; aching to have that wonderful warmth blooming in his skin when Craig figuratively picked him up and placed him just so on the shelf where he belonged. </p>
<p>His place. It was like being insulated from the rest of the world. </p>
<p>As it stood, Craig had indulgently instructed Kyle to get on his knees and present himself, ass raised, mouth open and filled with moisture already; thighs slightly spread as Kyle's cock twitched and hardened. He told him to count the lashes and Kyle did, thanking Craig as well, for helping him ease into the safe place like he was being submerged in bath water. </p>
<p>That place in his head, down so deep; down, down, down and possibly bottomless -</p>
<p>He'd never realized it existed until he met Craig. He also never knew sex could be so good, too; being bent over, spread, made to take his husband's cock like he'd been born for it; hard and fast -</p>
<p>"Kyle, you done over there? I need you."</p>
<p>He was finishing washing the first round of the morning's dishes when Tweek spoke, pulling him from thoughts that always looked scarlet in retrospect; golden, too, like the memory was fused with fire and lamplight. He felt heat in his veins when he thought of Craig, what he could do, and last night was no exception. </p>
<p>"I'll make you feel it," he'd promised, and oh, he did. </p>
<p>He always did. </p>
<p>"We got that catering order going out, and it's annoyingly specific," Tweek said, tapping a pen against his temple methodically; hair fluffy like candy floss. He talked about cutting it but Kyle knew that was probably never going to happen. "So, what do you wanna do, the coffee or the bakery stuff?"</p>
<p>"You're the coffee expert around here," Kyle replied, studying the order. "Huh, this is for a place really close to my old office."</p>
<p>"Eww," Tweek teased, beginning the process of making an assload of coffee for a fuck-ton of executives. </p>
<p>"Right?" Kyle got out a box to place the bagels in, always glad that Tweek understood his derision for his old job. God, he was glad to be out of there. He checked the order again "Forty-eight bagels, fruit salad, and pastries, too? Are they throwing a fucking convention or what?"</p>
<p>"Who even knows?" Rubbing his calf with the opposite foot, Tweek was jittery, having taken a couple shots before his shift. The caffeine moved through him like little pulses of lightning. It felt good for the moment; he just hoped he didn't crash too hard before his hot yoga class that afternoon. "So, your brother settling in okay?"</p>
<p>"Aside from catching me with no pants on, yeah," Kyle replied, throwing a cinnamon bagel into the box. </p>
<p>Tweek laughed. "Kyle, you minx. Were Craig's pants down too or was this a solo event?"</p>
<p>"Don't get me started on Craig's role in the whole thing. He practically set me up." Kyle yanked open the fridge to fish out tubs of cream cheese. "One of his little games, you know how he can be."</p>
<p>"As much as he'll let me," Tweek smiled. He didn't need to tell Kyle he had a little crush on his husband, a fondness, but then again he'd always had a weakness for the aloof ones. At least that's how he saw him. </p>
<p>That, and Craig had a really nice ass, but he wasn't going to tell Kyle that. Kyle already knew, the lucky asshole.</p>
<p>"Anyway, yeah, Ike is good and it's nice having him around, even if it's an adjustment."</p>
<p>"Well, with all that space you only really need to see each other when you want to," Tweek replied, opening up the coffee box to pour the liquid into.</p>
<p>"True, but he followed me around like a duckling yesterday, acting like my doing chores was the crime of the century." Taking some tongs, Kyle began snagging pastries. </p>
<p>"That sounds like hyperbole," Tweek said, leaning against the counter to stretch out his legs. </p>
<p>Kyle sighed. "He called me a stepford wife. Like, okay, is it really that strange that I like to take care of the house and my husband?"</p>
<p>"I guess he, like pretty much everyone who knows you, is wondering why you opted to stop making bank to become a hausfrau." Tweek gave him a little shrug when Kyle glared at him. </p>
<p>"That is in such poor taste. Stop feminizing housework, okay? Let's evolve a little here, and might i add that you know some of my reasons."</p>
<p>"Yeah, but it sounds like Ike doesn't, so -"</p>
<p>"Shit, shit, shit," Kyle broke in, moving to duck behind Tweek. "It's that guy again, the one i told you about? I hope he's just walking by."</p>
<p>Peering out the window, Tweek saw a man with dark chestnut hair walking by; clean-cut, good looking. A 7 or an 8 out of 10, Tweek would say. He just needed some fashion guidance. "Oh, is that the one that reminds you of -"</p>
<p>"Yes, and please don't say his name," Kyle pleaded, the thought of that name alone making chills work their way up his back like little insects marching. "It's just so weird, he looks so much like him."</p>
<p>"Yeah, but Kyle, you told me he was dead."</p>
<p>"That's not the point. Is he gone?" Kyle held onto Tweek's shirt, already starting to shake. </p>
<p>"Yeah, he went by, it's okay." Turning, Tweek put his arms around Kyle and hugged him a little. "He's gone."</p>
<p>"I must look so stupid, reacting this way to someone I've never met, but he's just so familiar," Kyle said softly, welcoming the affection; proud that this sort of contact was getting easier as time passed. </p>
<p>"You don't look stupid at all, I totally get it," Tweek said, pressing his cheek to Kyle's for just a moment before leaning back; they looked at each other, green and hazel eyes assessing and understanding; considering. "I mean, I don't get it, get it, but from what you've told me, your response is completely justified."</p>
<p>Kyle turned away, hands shaking, and he tried to reach for the place in his mind that he'd found the night before, but it was eluding him. "Still, it's been years, he's dead. He's gone. That should be enough."</p>
<p>"I'm sure it helps but I think the energy a person creates lives on after they die," Tweek said. "Whether good or bad, it's carried on in the people they affect. I mean, I know it sounds like horseshit but it makes sense. To me, anyway."</p>
<p>"Matter can neither be created nor destroyed," Kyle muttered, already planning on telling Craig what happened; share the memories it woke up. They'd discuss it, put it to rights; he just had to hang on. </p>
<p>"You should come to yoga with me after your shift," Tweek said, brightening. "It'll do you some good, work out some of that negative energy. Besides, you can be my wing man with that cute girl... you know the one I was talking about -"</p>
<p>"The dead ringer for Vivien Leigh, yeah I remember." Kyle sighed but he smiled, enjoying Tweek's company because he always leaned toward the upbeat and positive, even with all his hang-ups. "Haven't you asked her out yet?"</p>
<p>"Kyle, she's a goddess. You have to work up to touching divinity."</p>
<p>"And they don't mind if you bring a guest?"</p>
<p>"Naw, and I'm pretty sure Stan will be there, too. The more the merrier."</p>
<p>Kyle considered it. "I'll just check with Craig to make sure he doesn't have plans already, but that should be okay. Ike went to hang out with filmore so I don't have to worry about him..."</p>
<p>Tweek clapped his hands, excited now, even if his buzz was starting to wear off. "Killer, this is gonna be so great, Kyle. You don't even know."</p>
<p>------</p>
<p>Craig liked his office well enough. </p>
<p>The best part about it was that he had free license to close the door and be left alone for hours at a time. In fact, he could do his job remotely and had been given the option, but he'd declined. </p>
<p>Space was necessary. It was healthy sometimes. </p>
<p>Kyle had the house wrapped up (for the most part) and Craig had his office -</p>
<p>Among other places. Dark, out of the way locations; unknowns. They only became significant after Craig had changed them, and he wasn't always sure when that would happen, when the opportunity would present itself. </p>
<p>And opportunities were all around him at any given time; he just had to look. He merely had to <em>see</em>. </p>
<p>He had to keep his eyes open. </p>
<p>But in his office he could relax. Everything he saw was within his control; it wouldn't be changed unless he changed it; nothing would move unless he moved it. True, he had his space at home, and Kyle respected it, only cleaned what Craig permitted, but there was always that small concern of something being seen that was supposed to stay hidden. That heightened the thrill, though, and if there was anything Craig enjoyed it was a thrill -</p>
<p>That probably contributed to his acceptance of ike's presence in their home. Amongst other things, of course; he did like seeing Kyle happy. </p>
<p>He'd also considered keeping his box in here but it didn't feel right. No, <em>his</em> box belonged in <em>his</em> home, where his heart lived.</p>
<p>He'd been given a hard time from colleagues for having a picture of Kyle on his desk; left corner, angled just so. It was a portrait of him looking off to the side, nearly candid, taken like he hadn't known he was being observed. He almost looked afraid, but Craig had noticed that Kyle always looked a little anxious. </p>
<p>But his beauty lay in his obvious fear, that skittish transience. He gave the impression that he could disappear any moment, from the gentle curve of his jaw, to the stark bones of his neck and clavicle. He seemed so temporary, so weightless, and this was almost enough to make Craig want to keep him always. He had the look of someone just about to be taken and changed; anticipating it and accepting its inevitability. </p>
<p>But as much flack as he got for the picture, he knew it was all done in the nature of well-meaning ribbing. People also admired his devotion to his husband, to their home and life; wondered why more folks didn't have their spouse's photos on their desk. They thought it was old fashioned and sweet. </p>
<p>And Craig appreciated that for numerous reasons, the way the small details created the most profound impression; built up a nice solid cover to become lost behind. </p>
<p>He was just about to check in with Kyle when he received a text, smiling to see that his husband was getting out, being social. </p>
<p>Also very healthy. It was good to be seen in the community, doing innocuous things that contributed to a meaningless, innocuous life - at least on the surface. </p>
<p>The surface, in many ways, was the most important part of a life; develop a pretty, dazzling shell and most of the time no one would bother to look beyond it, not with the light in their eyes. </p>
<p>----</p>
<p>The house was empty when Ike got back from seeing Fillmore, breathing a sigh of relief to get out of the heat. </p>
<p>He also breathed a sigh of relief to get away from Fillmore, because as much as he loved the guy he was still kind of a fucking asshole; loved to debate, and with the state of the world these days, not to mention the results of the most recent election, there was so much to argue about. </p>
<p>Ike just didn't have the energy for it, though. He wanted to get along. That was one of the major reasons that he hadn't wanted to stay with his folks all summer. </p>
<p>That and he had really missed his brother. Sure, they skyped on occasion and texted stupid memes to each other pretty often, but it wasn't the same. </p>
<p>But now, as he wandered through the hushed house, he was beginning to realize that nothing was the same. He'd been childish, he knew, to think that life could remain static, but he'd always kind of hoped. </p>
<p>Okay, that wasn't exactly fair. He had never wanted to stay in the same place, not so long as his own life was concerned, he just wanted everything else to remain the same; his parents, his childhood home and town, Kyle --</p>
<p>Foolishness and idiocy. Kyle was married now, had a home; had a life that didn't necessarily have to have a place for Ike, but he still cared, that was obvious in how he fretted and doted.</p>
<p>Finding himself in the immaculate kitchen, Ike felt like he was steeped in his brother's new brand of caring: cleaning, cooking, obsessing over the small details. Everything seemed to have a ritual attached to it, even something as small as scrubbing the sink. It all seemed to matter much more than it needed to. </p>
<p>But he was happy, right? He smiled, he laughed; at times those small glimmers of who he'd been shone through, and then Ike had to wonder why he felt so inexplicably concerned. </p>
<p>But he was. Like a thread running through linen, there was something coursing in ike's thoughts that told him to open his eyes and see; notice what's out of place and put it back the way it should be, please. </p>
<p>Grabbing a water from the fridge, Ike leaned against the counter and just let his thoughts sink in and mix, the weight of the day falling off of him. The air conditioner hummed, creating a draft, and he wondered when everyone would find their way home. Dinner last night had been so nice, just talking and fading into the dreamy summer evening; it had been the first time Ike really felt like his vacation had begun. </p>
<p>The cat came into the room then and nosed at its water dish, which was only partially full. Feeling tender, Ike went and filled the bowl from his own bottle, reaching to scratch the animal under its chin, pleased to hear a rusty purr start up like a weak little motor. </p>
<p>"You sure are sweet, too bad you always seem to be hiding," Ike murmured. </p>
<p>His phone chirped in his pocket. Giving the cat another scratch, he removed it, frowning to see that Kyle was begging his forgiveness for going out with his friends that night. </p>
<p>
  <em> <strong>I won't be home too late. There are leftovers in the fridge; have whatever you want. Sorry!</strong> </em>
</p>
<p>He rolled his eyes before replying:</p>
<p>
  <strong> <em>Knock it off, bro. We're cool, have fun. </em> </strong>
</p>
<p>Sighing, he pocketed the phone before glancing at the cat, who was rubbing his knee then, walking on tiptoe the way cats do; almost like they were hollow and light; made of balsa wood. Ike stood and stretched, feeling like the house had just gotten larger within the span of 30 seconds. </p>
<p>He considered his next step. He could watch TV, dick around on Facebook, swim -</p>
<p>"Yeah, I'll do that," he said out loud, the cat perking its ears up. "Aren't you excited for me, Klick?"</p>
<p>Klickitat followed him when he ascended the steps, soundless like a little shadow as Ike went to his room and changed into his trunks; the once organized space now strewn with his stuff: clothes, books, general bullshit. A clock radio on the side table told him in red numbers that it was already 4:37. A framed print over the bed showed Mt St. Helens silhouetted against a rising sun; so intact that Ike couldn't be sure if it was before or after it had erupted. </p>
<p>Once in his red trunks, Ike used the can and then left the room, looking across the hall toward the master bedroom, its door ajar. He was slightly ashamed that it didn't take a lot to convince himself to take a look, but he did, padding on bare feet to the door and pushing it with one finger, watching it swing open. </p>
<p>The room was pristine, dominated by the large bed that Kyle had made to military precision yesterday; looking like a movie prop with its ornate frame: thick posts of dark wood and a heavy headboard. The side tables matched the wood of the bed, each with a small lamp with a golden shade and bases that were pearly in color. </p>
<p>The art on the walls were of lively subjects; people dining, men and women waltzing in fancy attire, all done in splotches of paint that blurred the closer you got, sharpening together to create the image from a distance. </p>
<p>At the foot of the bed was a wooden chest that had a blanket folded across it. Ike went to sit on it, soaking up the feel of the room as the late afternoon sunlight fell through the slats of the blinds. Klickitat watched from the doorway, languidly washing his paws. </p>
<p>Somewhere in the house Ike could hear a faint beep on occasion. Perhaps the smoke detector's battery needed to be checked. </p>
<p>He sat and looked around, remembering things as they used to be, memories unwinding and turning into a trail in his head; snowy days, visits to Starks Pond to skate, playing in the woods and somehow making it home by the time the streetlights came on. </p>
<p>Through this contemplation, this veil over his eyes, he noticed the little shell-covered box on the dresser, and he could recall Kyle lingering over it the previous day. Stroking a hand over the lid after placing something inside. </p>
<p>He shouldn't, he really shouldn't, he knew, but his curiosity was profound, and he was already touching the box before he really knew what he was doing, lifting the lid, and -</p>
<p>"Huh," he said, holding up the little black button. Klick watched, eyes slitted before turning to lick his side. Ike pressed the plastic between his fingers and had to admit he was disappointed. It also seemed pointless to have a box with only one thing inside it, especially something as useless and mundane as a loose button. </p>
<p>But his was enough to make him wonder. Why was the button in there? Was he just missing the significance here?</p>
<p>A loud slam from outside made him almost jump, and he laughed at his own nervousness, and it was then that he realized that his heart was frantic in his chest; a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead. His nerves were on edge but they'd worked themselves up before he'd noticed it, just by being in this room and holding that stupid, worthless button. </p>
<p>Quickly, he put it back, closed the lid, and then made sure everything was exactly as it had been before he'd entered, rushing from the room just as he heard the front door swing open. The cat was gone and Ike stood in the dim hall for a moment, blinking, and when he looked down the length of the corridor he saw that every door was open except for one at the very end. It was shut tight, and for no reason at all, no good reason, anyway, he felt colder when he looked at it. </p>
<p>"Hey, is anyone home?" Craig's voice floated through the house, calm like always. </p>
<p>Ike swallowed before he could answer, suddenly aware of the dryness of his throat; tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth. He moistened it and answered, inexplicably glad that he was no longer alone in that quiet, shadowed house. </p>
<p>-----</p>
<p>It was over leftover brisket and salad that Craig slowly realized that Kyle's brother reminded him of someone he'd once known. He hadn't known them well, but they'd stayed with him ever since, kept in their own little box in his head. </p>
<p>That's how he saw his thoughts and memories most of the time. Series of boxes, all of differing shapes and sizes, each one with a separate feeling and color. They didn't touch, of course, and he had to allow himself access to them, but they were special. They helped keep his thoughts in order, made it so they didn't overlap and become confused; none of them being allowed to color the other, unable to influence what needed to stay pure, and what needed to remain in the dark. </p>
<p>"Compartmentalizing," his childhood psychiatrist had told him after he'd disclosed his way of doing things. "That's what that sounds like. A lot of people use it as a coping skill."</p>
<p>Craig had been intrigued at the time, bouncing his foot in that way his mother hated ("can't you ever keep still?! You're always moving, it makes me nervous!"). He'd sat up and while he didn't make eye contact with the doctor, he made it seem like he was; watching that place between her eyebrows.</p>
<p>"Really?" he'd asked. "So there are other people like me?"</p>
<p>She'd shaken her head and smiled. "Not exactly like you, Craig. I've honestly never met anyone just like you before, and I doubt i ever will again."</p>
<p>Now he was studying Ike as he ate, slowly, his hair still wet from the shower he'd taken after swimming. Craig knew he was adopted so he wasn't expecting similarities to Kyle, but there was something about him.</p>
<p>"Well, it sounds like you had a good day, even if Filmore sounds kind of annoying," Craig said, leaning back. He swirled the wine in his glass. </p>
<p>"He has his good points," Ike said, setting down his fork and sighing. "He just can't let things go... if I say I don't want to talk about something I mean it. He doesn't get that."</p>
<p>"Hmm," Craig nodded, pretending to be invested. He'd never been overly fond of small talk. It was tedious. Besides, he was still trying to figure out who Ike reminded him of. He pointed to his plate. "Still hungry? I can get you some more."</p>
<p>Ike waved him off. "No, but thanks. I'm stuffed."</p>
<p>"Okay, but if you don't fatten up a little your mom will have our asses," Craig teased, pushing his own plate away. </p>
<p>"Christ, don't let her get in your head, man. You'll never get her out."</p>
<p>Craig laughed. "She's already there, trust me."</p>
<p>Which was true, in a box next to Craig's own mother; two places Craig tried not to visit very often, even if Sheila was almost tolerable. She loved him to pieces and Craig certainly enjoyed that, though it hadn't been particularly difficult to ingratiate himself to the old harpy. Her type was always easy - kiss their asses like the sun shined out of them and you're golden. </p>
<p>Ike glanced at the clock, a twinge of worry working through him. "Do you think Kyle will be home soon?"</p>
<p>"Oh, yeah," Craig said, not overly concerned. "He does this sometimes... it's good for him to get out, you know? He spends too much time at home."</p>
<p>Ike blinked. "Really? You think so?"</p>
<p>"Sometimes, sure."</p>
<p>Ike let out a breath, relieved to hear that. Craig watched, bemused. </p>
<p>"You seem surprised to hear me say that."</p>
<p>Flushing, Ike could feel Craig's eyes on him, the ones his mother seemed to admire so much -</p>
<p>
  <em>"Such an unusual color! I've never seen anything like it!"</em>
</p>
<p>- and he was aware of how heavy that gaze could feel when he became the object of Craig's scrutiny. He also realized he felt the need to please him in some way, explain himself in such a way that Craig admired him - or at the very least considered Ike worthwhile; deserving of his notice. </p>
<p>This realization made him so uneasy that he squirmed.</p>
<p>"You okay?" Craig asked, pouring more wine. "Sorry to put you on the spot."</p>
<p>"No, it isn't that -"</p>
<p>(yes it is)</p>
<p>"- I'm just worried about Kyle. Now that he isn't working as much, I'm not sure if he knows what to do with himself." Looking down, Ike just wanted Craig to stop staring at him. </p>
<p>Craig licked his lips, eyes falling over ike's hair, the darkness of it, the little freckles on the apples of his cheeks. He'd never had occasion to really observe him like this before. </p>
<p>That's when it clicked, and one of the boxes in his head, way, way in the back, creaked open and he was falling into the passage of years. Even so, he tried to stay in the room, too, considering ike's concern. </p>
<p>"Kyle hated that job near the end," he said, blurring between the present and the past. He could see himself as a kid, gangling, almost a teenager, and it was such a hot summer; the air steamy, and he'd been so restless. "Okay, not so much the job but the place."</p>
<p>"I thought Kyle liked where he worked... he had friends, didn't he?" Ike kept his eyes averted, wanting to reach for his phone to keep his hands busy, but he was afraid Craig might think that was rude. He stayed still. </p>
<p>Craig thought about this, split, and he could remember the way he'd become aware of the jogger that passed by every day; youngish, slim and always wearing short jogging shorts (usually brightly colored), and a tight tshirt. The sight of him had woken something in Craig's brain, a part he hadn't been aware was even there, sleeping until that point -</p>
<p>"How much do you know about your brother's last relationship?" Craig asked now, shaking his head. That box was opening wider now, and his heart was picking up. </p>
<p>Ike actually looked at him now, confused. "Not a lot. But then again i never really asked... Kyle doesn't like it when i ask about stuff like that."</p>
<p>"Ah, that's about right, isn't it? Kyle can be so private." </p>
<p>It hadn't been long before Craig had waited every day to watch the jogger go by, dark hair made moist with sweat, and it was hot even at the start of the day; morning just beginning, the humidity making everything droop and turn heavy, but Craig had been buoyant all the same. He'd watch, and his hands would twitch. He'd go inside afterward and lie in bed, his body beginning to move in a way that was new, softly rutting against the mattress -</p>
<p>(Those muscles sliding under that smooth skin, the bones, oh, those bones -)</p>
<p>The box was open all the way now, and Craig was having a very hard time concentrating, but he looked at Ike and it was like he was hiding in the bushes again, watching the jogger go by, but this time he could feel the bat in his hands, and he could see himself raising it and bringing it down -</p>
<p>"You know, you're very familiar to me," Craig said, leaning forward. "I used to know someone that looked like you."</p>
<p>"Like me?" Ike asked, scooting back a little before he realized it. "Who?"</p>
<p>"That's the funny thing, I never knew his name," Craig replied, looking deeper into the box, and in the distance he could see the tower that overlooked it all; a light beginning to come to life in the window at the top. </p>
<p>That restless, almost liquid feeling, was starting to come over him. It moved insidiously, slow-growing and becoming a hunger that lingered, demanding satisfaction. </p>
<p>"I guess i didn't really know him," Craig added, shaking his head. "I wanted to, though."</p>
<p>He'd dragged the body to a clearing, and he'd been surprised at the time because he'd never figured that someone so lithe could be so heavy, but eventually he'd been where Craig had needed him, and he'd laid down beside him, pressing close and resting his head on the man's shoulder. He'd placed a hand on the stranger's chest, and he could recall being disappointed at the stillness there, how cold the skin had turned in such a short amount of time. </p>
<p>"That's too bad," Ike said, pushing up from his chair. It was in that moment that he realized he was finding it hard to breathe, and even though Craig was being so welcoming, so friendly, he didn't want to keep sitting across from him like this. This knowledge made him feel sick with guilt. </p>
<p><em>I'm just tired</em>, he thought. <em>That's all. </em></p>
<p>Out of politeness more than anything else, he asked, "what happened to him?"</p>
<p>Craig drank some wine, holding it in his mouth. He shrugged. "I don't know. You know how you come across people in your life and they're just blips? That's how it was."</p>
<p>He'd buried the body until he'd decided what he should do with it, and he had been surprised by his own focus, how calmly he'd handled the affair. It was like he was realizing who he actually was, this clear, methodical person that has found a way to dismember the corpse and stuff it in a barrel to have the skin dissolve in a solution he'd made from chemicals in the garage -</p>
<p>After doing some research, of course. It was slapdash and sloppy, an amateur's attempt, but it had worked, even though up until that point he'd only tried this on much smaller creatures -</p>
<p>The bones had been scattered in a clearing deep, deep in the forest, and he'd used a weight to pulverize them to dust. </p>
<p>"He looked a little like you," he said, smiling slowly at Ike now. "Not a lot. Maybe it's the freckles."</p>
<p>Ike touched his face and that feeling wouldn't go away, that icy finger of unease; if anything it seemed to be working its way deeper under his skin. The sensation was so pervasive that he couldn't even focus on what they'd been discussing, almost forgetting for a moment until he heard a key in the front door. </p>
<p>The weight that had been building in his chest blessedly lessened and Ike was actually able to catch his breath, so relieved that he almost sagged from it. He reached out to lean on the table. </p>
<p>"Speak of the devil," Craig smiled, rising and turning to the doorway when Kyle came in, and Ike had to fight to keep himself from running to his brother and hugging him so tightly he wouldn't be able to breathe. </p>
<p>Kyle looked at them tiredly but glad to be home. His muscles were screaming and he felt sticky from sweat, but it had been nice to be with friends, laying aside (momentarily) the burdens in his head. </p>
<p>But now he was back, and he automatically went to Craig and allowed himself to be embraced, held so wonderfully close. </p>
<p>"Long day?" Craig murmured, kissing his curls. </p>
<p>Kyle nodded. "I need you tonight. I saw that person i told you about... outside the shop. He didn't come in, but still..."</p>
<p>"Oh, baby," Craig said, nuzzling and moving until his lips were next to Kyle's ear. "I'll take care of you but I might need the button later."</p>
<p>Kyle pulled away, looking into Craig's face. "Already? But -" He stopped, turning to see Ike watching, and he was concerned about how pale he looked. He also didn't want to say anything in the moment that he couldn't properly explain later. "Okay, we'll discuss it."</p>
<p>Craig kissed him then, tipping Kyle's head back with his hand under his chin; deep, his tongue sneaking into his mouth and tasting him. When he stopped, Kyle was breathless and warm, almost hazy when he looked at Ike again. </p>
<p>"I'm gonna go shower," Craig said, brushing the curls from Kyle's eyes. "It's this weather, I swear. Even with the air on i feel so gross."</p>
<p>Kyle just nodded, still reeling from the kiss, trying to grapple with the fact that Craig would probably be going out that night and so soon. He'd never asked for the button again so quickly. </p>
<p>"See you later, Ike," Craig called. "Goodnight, sleep tight."</p>
<p>"Yeah, you too," Ike replied, trying to make sense of his brother's expression; faraway, almost woebegone.</p>
<p>As soon as Craig had cleared out, the brothers let the silence hang heavy in the kitchen before it started to lighten, becoming bearable, at least where ike was concerned. He sat back down, feeling unsteady as he reached for his wine glass. </p>
<p>Klickitat came in then, rubbing against things, slinking until he made it to Kyle and wound around his ankles, begging for attention. </p>
<p>Ike watched, and he idly realized that he'd never seen the cat in the same room as Craig; the two like ships passing in the night. He didn't know how it even mattered, but the knowledge still caught him off guard; that chilled finger moving up his back, taking care to slide delicately over each vertebrae in turn. </p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>